Shinigami Rises DFA 22
by Dyna Dee
Summary: While still dealing with the effects of his medication, Duo finds himself alone and in a desperate situation, fighting to save Quatre.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own GW nor it's characters, and I certainly don't make any money from my storytelling, darn it. 

Shinigami Rises - DFA 22

By: Dyna Dee

Warnings: angst and violence.

Two weeks after the End's Beginning

It was nearing ten o'clock on a bright Saturday morning when Quatre and Duo strolled out from the dorms together. It was just the two of them this morning as Heero and Wufei had gotten permission to go to the Sanq Capital to visit with Relena for the day. Trowa decided to spend the morning at a local gym downtown as a membership had been generously provided by Lady Une for the five to use if they so desired to maintain their top physical conditions.

Quatre, unbeknownst to his companion, had volunteered to stay with Duo, who had declined to participate on either outing. Since the day the American had trashed his room at Quatre's estate in Saudi Arabia, the other four had taken on the task to have at least one of them monitor their friend at all times, at least until his medication got his emotional state stabilized. They were still waiting for that day to come.

The two boys, still small for their age of nearly sixteen years, walked towards the track in their gym clothes for a morning jog that the blond had suggested as an activity. Duo had half-heartedly agreed. The four had commented with concern amongst themselves that the normally exuberant boy from L-2 rarely showed any enthusiasm for much of anything anymore.

"You didn't have to stay and babysit me," Duo said a bit sullenly and with a sigh while looking off into the distance at absolutely nothing, as he did so often these days. Quatre curiously wondered if Duo was afraid to make eye contact with him because he'd expose too much of himself when his emotions were running rampant, or that maybe he was afraid to look at his friends to see their reaction at his current emotionally incapacitated state.

"Why didn't you go with Heero and Wufei, Duo?" He deflected the statement with a question of his own. "You know you were more than welcome."

The slender shoulders of the long haired boy shrugged. "Heero needs a break from me. Besides," he took in a deep breath, "it's not fun being the third wheel."

"You wouldn't have been with Wufei there," the blond replied. "I know he wanted you to go also."

Another shrug. "He needs a break too," was the dispassionate reply. "I think you all do."

The sensitive blond could feel the growing emptiness in his sad friend. He reached out his hand and grabbed hold of Duo's arm in a reassuring touch. "You're not a burden to us, Duo. We're your friends, not your keepers. We want to help you get through this," he said with all sincerity.

Duo's eyes rolled upward in disbelief. "Yeah, whatever you say, man."

The blond Arabian huffed, "Dammit Duo. Sometimes I could just shake you until you come back to your senses," he ground out in frustration.

"Did you just swear, Quatre?" Duo asked, a hint of a smile growing at the corners of his mouth.

"You're driving me to it," the blond teen replied soberly. "So perk up, okay?"

"I'm trying," the braided boy said wearily, diverting his eyes to look at anything but his friend. "This medication.....I don't like it. Why can't I be like I was before? Was I so horrible that they have to put me in this grey-emotionless mental state?" He shoved his hands into his pockets and, this time, his eyes did return to his friend to look pleadingly at him. "Nothing is funny anymore, Quatre. I can't find joy in the warmth of the sun or a hot shower. Food? I can't eat because I'm too nauseous or too sleepy. All I want to do is sleep, be angry and rant at the world for all the pain and misery I've known. Is that better than how I was before?"

Quatre could see that Duo was upset, though his medicine did much to keep his anger very much subdued. Not know what else he could do to help his friend, he threw his arms around the other boy and held him tightly. "I'm sorry, Duo. No, it's not better, but once they find the right medication, you'll not have the dips into depression you've had. It'll get better, I promise. If it doesn't, I'll pay for the best doctors on the Earth and Colonies to see you. We'll make this right. I promise."

As he spoke, Duo's arms had come up to embrace his friend back tightly, as if he were a his last hope to cling to.

They stood there for several moments before Sandrock's pilot spoke again. "Come on." He slowly pulled away. "Let's not be so glum. The school's not so bad, is it?" 

Duo shook his head as he turned to look at the track just ahead of them, avoiding eye contact again.

"We're all together, right?" Quatre asked smiling, and looked to his friend for a positive confirmation

Another nod.

"And it's Saturday, sunny and we don't have any homework, right?"

A slow smile crept up on the violet-eyed teen's face. "You're right," Duo conceded as he looked askance to his friend as they approached the track, grateful for the attempt to lighten his mood. "Nothing to feel bad about today, is there?"

Quatre's smile beamed in response. "And as a bonus, our watch dogs have followed the other three off campus, meaning......," he waggled his eyebrows.

"Lunch and a movie?" Duo guessed, sounding hopeful.

The blond nodded with a smile, bringing an almost forgotten light into Duo's eyes.

The last time he'd even seen a hint of mischief in the blue-violet orbs was when, several times during the first few weeks and months at the school and when he had felt up to it, Duo had successfully snuck out at night just because he wasn't suppose to. He always got an impish sparkle in his eyes before and after he did it. But the first time he did it, he snuck out by himself and managed to buy some uppers from some college students outside a club in an attempt to self medicate himself in order to counteract his daily drug induced lethargy. He waited until the next morning to take them and a half hour later, ended up with a rush that left him literally bouncing off the walls and his heart wildy palpitating.

The other pilots were immediately suspicious at the dramatic change in their friend, and when Duo looked in shaking panic to Heero and told him in a distressed voice of his racing heart, they all cornered him and coerced him into confessing what he'd done. From then on they had kept a closer eye on him, with Duo agreeing to certain conditions when he felt the need to sneak out. Wufei and Trowa accompanied him on two other nocturnal outings while Heero and Quatre covered for them. They ended up at a nearby pizza parlor and an all night video arcade room. Harmless activities, really, but it gave the Deathscythe pilot a feeling of freedom and power to be able to break the rules. 

Duo's eyes got that sparkle again along with a growing smile at the thought that here was Mr. Always Follow the Rules suggesting they sneak off school grounds, in broad daylight. He couldn't help the rising curve of his lips and he inwardly admitted to himself that it felt good to have a smile on his face again.

Then, rethinking the situation, Quatre narrowed the perimeters of their excursion. "Maybe just an early lunch," he amended. "Trowa should be back by twelve-thirty, along with his watch dog. They'll both start looking for us, so we should be somewhere on campus by then."

Duo's smile drooped slightly. "Do you always have to be so damn cautious?" he asked sourly.

"We can't afford to blow it here, Duo," Quatre replied in all seriousness. "If we ever want to have total freedom, we have to confine ourselves to certain rules to show we can be trusted. I'm willing to take a slight, safe risk to have some fun, but not to the point of ending up in some prison for the rest of my life."

Duo sighed and nodded, understanding Quatre's reason and even inwardly agreeing with it. Even though his point made sense, it didn't mean he had to like it. "Alright," he agreed, seeing Quatre wasn't about to change his mind. "If that's all we can do, I guess it's okay."

"Let's ask if we can go to the cinema this afternoon." Quatre suggested as he took off his jacket and lay it on the bleacher just off the track. "I'm sure it will be okay."

"Sounds like a plan, Q-man," Duo said with a crooked smile. "So how about we get this jog done so we can get outta here." And without further warning, the braided boy took off running at a quick pace, following the second lane on the marked track.

Two quick miles around the track, a full-out run back to the dorm, fast showers, and the two were soon sneaking through the pre-cut, chain-linked fence hidden behind a large bush. 

They cut through yards in the residential neighborhood that encircled the school and were soon casually strolling towards the nearest shopping center, enjoying the bright cheerful day and each other's company. As they chatted, they agreed on what their lunch would be, a bacon/deli gourmet pizza from a pizzeria they ordered from most Friday nights. Last night they had given into Heero and Wufei and ordered Chinese Food, so being deprived of their weekly fare, they were craving a pizza for their lunch.

They walked into the drab, dim lit and empty restaurant they'd been in only a few times as their watch dogs usually insisted on having their pizza delivered. They recognized the husky, middle-aged man at the counter who called out a greeting to them. "Where's your chaperones?" he asked in his customary gruff voice as they two boys approached the ordering counter. He was referring, of course, to their constant body guards who followed them everywhere they went, sometimes subtly and sometimes not. The Pizza Parlor was thought to be a place of risk for some reason, so they always accompanied the boys inside and ate at the table next to them.

"They're busy today." Quatre answered in a friendly tone. The man they knew only as Pete nodded in reply.

"So," he eyed both boys. "What's it going to be today?"

Duo smiled as Quatre ordered. "A large Bacon/Deli and a pitcher of root beer."

Pete rang the amount up in the cash register and the blond billionaire pulled a few bills out of his pocket and paid for the food.

"Have a seat fellas while I fix it up for you," Pete said as he handed them two tall amber plastic glasses filled with ice and a pitcher of foaming root beer.

It was still early, eleven fifteen, so the lunch crowd had yet to make an appearance. The two sipped at their soda and watched Pete as he quickly threw together their favorite pizza, stuck it into the oven, and picked up the phone. He dialed the number quickly, obviously having memorized it, and spoke in a hushed tone with his hand cupping the mouthpiece to stop any words from escaping. Quickly becoming bored, Duo fished into his pockets for change and rose from his seat to approach the music box.

Fifteen minutes after ordering, the two boys found their mouths salivating at the sight of the hot cheesy pizza as it was placed before them. They talked and joked as they ate at their leisure, though being mindful of the passing time.

Happily sated a short while later, the entire pizza eaten, they stood to leave, putting a large tip on the table to show their appreciation for the excellent cuisine. They waved at Pete in farewell as they moved past the counter, but Quatre stopped for a moment wondering at the odd look on the man's face. He looked...like the cat that was about to get his canary, a hungry predatory look. He felt a chill run down his spine as he thought about it, and shook it off as they neared the door.

Stepping through the doorway to the outside, the contrast of the brilliant noon-day sunlight from the rather dimly lit inside of the restaurant caused both boys to pause in their step, being momentarily blinded, to let their eyes adjust. Before Duo's adjusted, he found himself being abruptly and fiercely pushed into the side of the solid wall of the restaurant, his head cracking loudly against the brick as a squawk of surprise came from Quatre.

The Deathscythe pilot ignored the ache in his head and shaded his eyes with his hands only to see a large man holding Quatre from behind, and a white piece of cloth was being pressed over his friend's nose and mouth as he struggled against the firm body hold the man held him in.

Having eyes only for his captured friend, the braided boy missed seeing the man at his left who, as Duo's surged forward to help free the blond, hit him on the head from behind with something hard and unyielding. Duo dropped like a stone to the ground, dazed and immobile, barely registering the voices and the sound of a vehicle that pulled up behind them.

Get up, get up, he ordered himself and, as the doors to the vehicle shut, his body sluggishly obeyed.

He stood on shaky legs and forced his eyes to focus. What he saw was a white, unmarked, older model van, the kind that small commercial businesses use. The van had two side doors and two rear doors that opened up the back. He also took in the fact that the windows up front and on the back doors were dark tinted. The van took off, with Duo still trying to get a grasp of what his concussed mind was seeing, when suddenly the get away vehicle jerked to a stop and the horn blared loudly as a car driven by an old man slowly, and overly cautiously, inched in front of the van to make a left turn around it. It was just the chance Duo needed. Using his mind over the matter of his body not responding well, the teen from L-2 forced himself to move forward to the halted van.

The old man in the car blocking the van's escape stopped his car for a moment and blinked in confusion at the van's driver, not comprehending the impatience of the other driver. Then, in slow motion, he raised his middle finger and flipped the van driver off, then proceeded to slowly finish his turn. The van began to move just as Duo reached it. He carefully crept up onto the back bumper so those inside would not detect his added weight to the vehicle, and held onto the door handles as the driver impatiently revved up the engine. Securely planting his feet on the bumper, he kept himself in a low, crouched position as the van's wheels began to spin when the accelerator was abruptly pushed to the floor.

A wild ride through the unfamiliar city streets ensued with Duo clinging to the door handles with all the will and determination he could muster. His head throbbed and he could feel blood from the wound on the back of his head trickling down his neck and back.

A wave of dizziness and nausea almost overtook him and his handhold was beginning to loosen. He couldn't even guess how long he'd been holding on, but knew he couldn't hold his grip on the handles for much longer. Horns from passing cars honked at the van as they observed his precarious position on the back bumper, but the van's occupants must have determined the honking was not centered on them, and kept up its speed and serpentine movements through the city. Duo held to the hope that the van's occupants were still unaware of his presence.

As the vehicle jerked to a stop, the braided boy's cramped hand could handle no more and he was forced to let go. He stepped down from the bumper, keeping his body low to avoid detection, and rushed behind a parked car in a bent position. He gripped at his throbbing head as he quickly surveyed his surroundings taking in the tall, older buildings all around him. He knew he hadn't been to this side of the city before, and figured it was one of the older communities within the city.

He kept his eyes trained on the van that was momentarily stopped behind three other cars at a stop light. Taking advantage of the pause, Duo quickly looked down at his abused hands. The impression of the door handles imprinted deeply and in red on his palms. He tried to shake the feeling back into them while frantically looking around for some kind of help.

The stop light turned green at the same time that his eyes lit on a possible solution. A bicyclist peddling towards him, unaware of the situation, was about to lose his ride.

As the van pulled forward, Duo braced himself. The unsuspecting bicyclist was hit from the side from an area between two parked cars, ambushed, and knocking him over onto the pavement. Looking up and bewildered at what had just transpired, the man in his mid twenties was startled to see a teenager with a long braid grab up his racing bicycle, murmur quick words of regret, then with a running start, hopped onto it and sped off down the street as if the hounds of hell were in pursuit.

With dogged determination, the braided boy kept his sights on the white van while he peddled furiously after it, his heart beating with his exertions and fear for his friend. He forced himself to ignore the throbbing of his head and churning of his stomach as he willed his body to push ahead. There were times when he lost sight of his target as the van turned corners or bends in the road, but his adrenaline allowed him to greater speeds and taking the necessary risks to keep up.

After narrowly being missed for the fifth time by vehicles he shared the road with, having ignored almost all the traffic laws, his luck ran out when he was brushed slightly by a truck turning right in front of him. That touch of metal to the handlebars caused him to go crashing down onto the roadway. He lay against the grey pavement for only a moment as his mind fought to register what had just happened and assess his injuries. He was in pain with not only his head injury, but now with numerous scrapes and soon to be bruises, but otherwise, he felt he w unharmed, no broken bones. His left leg had been the worst of the injuries from falling off the bicycle, having been scraped against the rough surface of the road, causing the sleeve of his right arm and the right pant leg to be shredded, as well as the skin underneath from the road burn. He was mildly shocked that he hadn't broken anything, but his right hip bone hurt like hell. Then, as if his body hadn't suffered enough, he pitched to his side and threw up the entire contents of his stomach onto the street, thinking for just a second that regurgitated pizza might just be the worst thing to throw up. He paused only a moment to catch his breath before looking up at the blurred figure above him.

People witnessing the accident immediately ran to his aid. "You okay, son?" A mustached, middle aged man in a business suit stood above him with a look of deep concern on his face as he viewed the damage to the teen's visible injuries and handed him a white handkerchief to wipe off his mouth. Duo took the offered cloth and wiped off any trace of disgorged pizza from his face. The look of concern on the man's face quickly turned to pure shock as the injured boy then leapt to his feet, grabbed the slightly damaged bike by the handle bar grips and after a few running steps, flung his left leg over the seat and began to peddle away with a furious intent.

Several stop lights worked in the teen's favor and against the white van, allowing him to make up for lost time and catch up. He was within half a block's length behind it when the van turned and entered a more industrial part of the city. Continuing on several blocks, the van slowed slightly and made a left turn into a narrow alleyway that stood between two large, brick buildings.

The American peddled anxiously towards that destination and having reached it, quickly veered onto the sidewalk and came to a stop in front of one of the buildings and quietly set the pilfered bike against the wall.

With a quick visual scan, he took into account that there was no traffic, human or vehicle on the street. The businesses on this street apparently closed shop on Saturdays. Aware that a boy wandering the street, obviously injured, would stand out and make anyone passing by curious, Duo stayed to the wall as he inched closer to the alleyway.

Wiping the sweat off his face with the left sleeve of his shirt and taking deep breaths to give his body the oxygen it needed, he pressed his face against the edge of the corner and slowly turned it to see what was happening. His eyes immediately found the stopped van with its back doors wide open. It had stopped halfway down the narrow alleyway in front of a side doorway of the next building. A man emerged with Quatre's limp body flung over his shoulder. It was clear that his friend's hands and feet had been tied up, and a pillow case was secured over his head.

"Damn," Duo muttered to himself as he turned back to the street to avoid being seen. What he wouldn't do at this moment for a gun or knife, some explosives....anything!

The sound of the twin doors slamming shut and the revving of the van's engine caused him to brave another glance. Thankfully, the van was exiting the alley by driving through to the other end. He was glad that luck was on his side for once as he would have been in plain view of the driver if he had backed out of the alleyway to his location as there was nowhere to hide. He then watched as the door to the warehouse across the alley shut.

After waiting several moments to make sure the way was clear, Duo eased into the alley as his mind raced, analyzing his options. He looked around him at his surroundings, the throbbing of his head becoming a viable distraction. Feeling half dazed, he realized he'd been so focused on following the van that he had no idea where he was or what his next step should be. Should he follow and retract his friend or call for backup? He glanced at his watch. It read one eighteen. They'd left the restaurant at twelve ten and he marveled that they'd actually wandered the city as long as they had. Another wave of dizziness coursed through him, so he took a moment to lower his head down between his knees and worked on controlling his breathing like Wufei had spent hours teaching him in order to gain control over himself when he felt panicked or overwhelmed. 

Feeling slightly better, he straightened and glanced up at the eight storey, half-block long building that looked to be part industrial warehouse and offices. It would take him quite a while to locate Quatre if the men were going to any means to hide their crime. Having no remembrance of a public phone on the main street, his decision was made. Moving forward, he stayed close to the wall as he made his way to the building's side entrance.

It took only a moment to open the locked side door. The one thing the school and Une's watch dogs hadn't taken away from him, probably because they hadn't found them, was his lock picks that he habitually hid in his braid. He eased the door to shut silently, and left it unlocked for any possible back up or escape. 

Once inside the large building, he noted the linoleum floor and slipped off his boots in order to maintain silence and slipped them into a nearby trash can in order to hide his presence. He gripped the longest lock pick in his hand as a possible and only weapon as he made his way in his stocking feet through the long, dim lit corridors lined with doors on both sides. Pressing his ear to each door, he tried to detect any voice, hopefully alerting him to Quatre's presence.

He bypassed the stairway and elevator, choosing to search the entire floor before ascending to the next level. His search was made both easier and more difficult as glass windows were encased in each door. Though he could see through them into the offices, it brought a greater chance of him being seen in return.

He discovered in his search a large work room that took up most of the center back of the building. It looked like a place where something was put together in an assembly line. He quickly picked the lock to the empty room and looked about for anything that could be of use to him. It was easy to surmise by the contents on the work tables that the business consisted of wooden picture frames and stationary etched into intricate patterns by lazars. The room was laid out so that the work stations circled the outer perimeter of the room with large metal racks on wheels were placed behind them where the completed carved wood and paper articles were placed, ready to be moved to the shipping area near the large back door.

He searched the room more frantically than systematically, looking for something to help him in his rescue attempt. All he found was a sharp cutting tool and duct tape and a couple of pairs of scissors. Then on the way out, his eyes lit on a phone. He rushed to it and after failing to get an outside line, he dialed nine and then the number of the hall phone of the dorms. It rang ten times before a vaguely familiar voice answered.

"Hayden?" he guessed at the voice on the other end of the line. 

"Yeah, who's this?" the voice answered caustically. Duo could just picture the boy answering: tall, fair haired, somewhat handsome, arrogant and stuck up.

"This is Duo. Can you get Trowa for me?" he asked quickly. "It's an emergency," he added, obviously flustered.

"Don't think he's here," the other answered unconcerned.

"Can you look, please?" He was mindful to keep his voice down even though he really wanted to scream at the jerk on the other end of the line.

"I think he and that body guard of his are out looking for you and Quatre." The boy on the other end sighed as if bored. "You know you're probably in trouble if your off campus."

"Shut up and listen to me Hayden." His voice growled out impatiently. "I'm asking you one more time to check his room for me. This is an emergency," he repeated as slowly as he could to get the message across to the dim wit. "If you don't, I can promise you that you will live to regret it!"

The telephone went dead, the other boy had hung up and Duo resisted the urge to smash something. He was going to kill the guy when he got back, he decided. 

He hit the phone's flash button, and dialed another number, Heero's cell phone, and prayed he had it on him. 

Two rings later it clicked on. "Yuy here," came the Wing pilot's bland greeting, and the braided boy felt a surge of relief flow through him.

"Thank God, Heero." he gasped.

"What's the matter?" Heero's voice was sharp and authoritative in response to Duo's obviously distressed tone. 

Somehow, the braided teen found the ability to deliver the message that Quatre had been kidnaped, the words came tumbling rapidly out of his mouth at an alarming rate of speed. He couldn't seem to slow down or stop, even though Heero kept ordering him to do just that. He sputtered out a short version of his tag on the van and roughly described his location.

"I'm in the building now, but I don't know where I am. Still in the city, an industrial area. He's not on the ground floor and I don't have any weapons. You're not here, and that prick Hayden wouldn't find Trowa, and I'm not sure how to proceed. Should I call the police or handle this on my own?" His words toppled out at a remarkable speed.

"Duo!" Heero shouted loudly, finally getting the rapidly speaking, more than slightly panicked sounding boy's attention. "Calm down," he ordered. "Take five deep breaths."

As the American reluctantly complied, he could hear Wufei's voice in the background over Heero's part of the line demanding to know what was going on.

"Duo," Heero began again, clearly ignoring Wufei's request, and kept his voice firm. "You did the right thing," he assured him. "Continue your search and locate Quatre. Do not engage the kidnappers unless Quatre's in danger. There's a heliport ten minutes from here. I'll secure transportation and Wufei and I will be back at the school within a half hour. I'll alert Trowa, and if you have the opportunity, call him in fifteen minute intervals with an update. Weapons?" he asked.

"I've found a couple of box cutting tools, scissors, and just office supplies. There's just not much here," he answered as his eyes scanned the room once more, his voice seeming much calmer now that Heero was giving him the comfort of orders to follow.

"Utilize what you can into weapons."

"Roger."

"And Duo?"

"Yeah?"

"Stay focused, we're on the way."

"K."

*Click*

Alone again. Stepping back into the mode of having a mission, the boy from L-2 gathered three pairs of scissors from the closest desks and disassembled them, then put the separated halves carefully into the back pockets of his black jeans, leaving the handles out for easy access. With a box cutter in each palm, he felt ready to continue the search for his friend. Silently leaving the workroom, he made his way to the stairwell.

TBC

  
  



	2. Part 2

Disclaimer: I don't own these guys and money, as always, is not a factor.

Shinigami Rises

By: Dyna Dee

Part 2

Warnings: violence, angst

Before the phone finished the first ring, Trowa was speaking into the receiver. "Duo?" he asked in a more anxious tone than the other had ever heard before.

"It's me," Duo confirmed in a hushed voice that sounded stressed. "I'm on the fourth floor with no sign of Quatre," he reported. "And most of the offices I've passed are deserted. No one seems to be around at all, which makes this a perfect place to stash a kidnap victim."

"Heero and Wufei are on their way to pick me up," Trowa told him. "Then we'll all get there quickly and join you."

"Watch dogs too?"

"Yes," Trowa replied. "They know the city better than we do."

"We're gonna be in trouble, aren't we?"

Trowa blinked in disbelief, then pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it in astonishment, disbelieving that this was the troublemaker of all time worrying about getting caught and punished when Quatre's life might be at stake. Then the thought hit him that Duo must really be scared or stressed to be worried about such a thing at this moment of crisis. In fact, Duo had sounded like a little kid waiting to be punished for something he'd done wrong. Having dealt with and been witness to the American's sway of emotions during the last few months, it suddenly felt as if he was standing on a high wire in dealing with the boy on the other end of the phone line. One wrong move or slip of the tongue could mean disaster.

"It's alright, Duo." He spoke in a gentle manner into the receiver. "The important thing to everyone is that we get Quatre back unharmed."

*pause*

"Yeah, you're right," came the sidetracked reply. "I gotta go, Trowa."

"Call me in fifteen minutes," the auburn haired boy ordered. "That's Heero's ETA, but I'll wait to hear from you before I leave."

"Right." Duo's voice sounded stronger now. "And Trowa?"

"What?"

"Tell Hayden I'm gonna kick his ass to China when I get back."

The Heavyarms pilot chuckled. "I think Heero said just about the same thing when Hayden answered his call. I believe he's packing as we speak."

"Then he's not as dumb as he acts," Duo added. "Back at you in fifteen," he added, then hung up the phone.

Trowa sighed and put the receiver back in its place up on the hall phone.

"Well?" The man behind him questioned. Watch dog number three, Roberto, had accompanied Trowa to the gym that morning and, immediately upon their return and not finding the other two in their rooms, instituted a search for the unaccounted pilots they'd left on campus, unguarded. The call from Heero had answered the puzzle as to where they were, and Roberto was fully informed of the situation on his own cell phone simultaneously by one of the two agents accompanying Heero and Wufei.

Trowa turned and looked up at the rather tall, Spanish, plain-clothes agent. "He's on the fourth floor and still hasn't located Quatre or his kidnapers."

Roberto nodded, his mouth pressed in a thin, grim line. "How's Duo handling it?" he asked, concerned for the boy they had all watched struggling emotionally with the various drugs the doctors had tried on him. It was unsettling even to the assigned protectors to see the strong, determined teen come unraveled a piece at a time. But all three of the agents assigned to protect and rein in the notorious Gundam pilots held a grudging respect for all of them as they observed the four boys rally around the long haired teen and each other. It didn't go unnoticed that the American was rarely, if ever, left by himself during this difficult time. If he and the other agents were worried over the present situation, he could only assume the other pilots were in a state of controlled panic to recover their two comrades.

"Duo sounded distant, distracted." Trowa answered the man's question with a worried frown on his usually placid face. "Maybe even a little shaky." He looked up to Roberto with his concerned green eyes that seemed impossibly old for someone still in his teens. "We need to get there quickly."

Roberto nodded, keeping in check his own inner feelings of anger and failure at protecting the two boys. Quatre had been taken on his watch and somehow, he vowed to himself, he would see this right.

He glanced down at his wrist watch. "Ten minutes," he reported as he and Trowa both took a position, leaning against the walls as they waited for the phone to ring and the helicopter to arrive.

Standing only feet from the stairwell on the sixth floor, the braided teen, armed with his hand-fashioned weapons, stopped at the top end of the corridor. He tilted his head to the side to hear better, thinking he'd detected voices. He needed to proceed with extra caution now, sensing he was getting close to his target. Removing his lock pick from his pocket, he quickly moved down the long corridor and silently picked the lock of every third door after detecting no sounds from within. He reasoned that if he had to duck inside a room to avoid being detected, it would help to have one nearby already open.

The faint sound he'd heard before grew into something more tangible as he neared the source. Voices, two distinct voices, were speaking back and fourth. Duo nervously looked back down the corner, deducing that the third kidnapper most likely had not returned. Hoping the missing man was a driver only and not coming back, he grew more cautious with each door he passed. He silently inched closer to the door from which the voices came. The brown office door also had a glass insert; this one was frosted for privacy and labeled simply in bold, black lettering, Room 621.

"Do you think he's called yet?" one of the men asked, his voice sounding nervously excited.

"He should have by now," the other, deeper voice answered calmly.

"Ten million..." the first voice said in awe at the large sum. Then a bit hesitantly he asked. "You don't think we're asking too much, do you?"

"We're talking about the Winner family here," voice number two said with sarcasm. "That's spare change for them, and I'm sure they'll gladly pay it to have their only male heir back."

"Yeah," voice one chuckled. "Lucky for us Pete recognized the kid when he first came into the pizza place."

"Shut up!" the deeper voice warned. "No names, remember? I don't want to have to kill the kid just 'cause you slipped and said our names."

There was a shuffling of feet and a pause before the first voice spoke again. "Don't worry, he's still out. How long do ya think it will be till he wakes up?"

"I don't know. Soon," the other answered. "So watch what you're saying," he warned in a tight voice.

"Alright, I got it." The other sounded peevish at the reminder.

Duo's eyes narrowed during the conversation as the person responsible for the kidnaping was named. Pete, the pizza guy. He was gonna be very sorry for that phone call he'd made that afternoon. Checking his watch, he realized he was already one minute late in placing his call to Trowa.

Slipping silently down to the end of the hallway to the first door open near the stairway, he entered the office that he discovered was occupied by a tax service. He went immediately to the lone desk in the room and picked up the phone and punched in the number.

"Where the hell have you been?" was Heero's angry voice that came down the wire.

"Found him," Duo whispered.

"Are you in danger of being discovered?" Heero asked, his anger quickly turned to concern.

"Maybe."

"How many?"

"Two with Quat, and two unaccounted for, the driver of the van, and the main conspirator."

"What floor?"

"Sixth."

"Room?"

"621"

"Alright. Do not take action unless you think his life is endangered or if you're discovered."

"K"

"We're on our way. The W.D.'s think they know the area you described. We'll be there shortly."

"I left a bicycle against the front of the building next to this one." Duo added, hoping its discovery would help lead them to him.

"Got it." *Click*

He carefully hung the phone up, avoiding any noise, and paused at the door, listening for any sound in the hallway.

"Dammit, I know I heard something," voice two said from out in the corridor.

"Could it be Dan?" voice one asked

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the corridor.

"What did I say about using names?" the deep voice growled out in a threatening tone.

"Ya didn't have to hit me," the other said in a hurt tone.

"Well maybe now you'll remember," came the snide reply. "Now, search this floor. I know I heard something."

"Could have been an echo of our voices in this empty dump," Voice one meekly suggested.

"Just do it!" Two snapped, obviously irritated.

Dropping down, Duo crawled on his hands and knees and cautiously reached up to turn the lock on the doorknob of the office. A small "tick" sounded as it engaged and he winced at it, hoping against hope the two in the corridor hadn't heard it. He breathed a relieved sigh as the sound of footsteps on the linoleum continued as the doors lining both sides of the hallway were checked.

"Why are some of these locked and some aren't? Voice one asked.

"I don't know, maybe it's a fire department regulation," two answered gruffly.

The braided teen went to the right side of the door and stood, placing his back against the wall. A few moments later, the doorknob rattled, and then came the sound of footsteps moving away, allowing him to sigh in relief. He stood there and waited for all sounds to cease, then checked his watch. Only five minutes had passed.

Then, echoing through the empty corridor was the ring of a cell phone. The deep voice of the second man followed. "Go back to the boy," he ordered the other.

Immediately the rapid sound of footfalls were heard as the other kidnapper complied.

"Yeah." Voice two answered the phone. Duo listened intently, glad that the acoustics of the hallway allowed him to hear the conversation taking place halfway down the long corridor.

"What?" the voice shouted in surprised anger. "They refused? Who bargains with kidnappers?" he said incredulously. Then there was silence, and when the man on the cell phone spoke again, his voice was deadly. "Well, I'm not just letting him go. If they think they can out maneuver us by just not dealing with us, then they've got a shock coming along with a dead kid."

Duo's heart began to beat faster with fear for his friend.

"I don't care what you say, I'll show them who's bluffing. The kid dies."

*pause*

"I'm in charge, not you!" he shouted, clearly displaying he was not.

"Go to hell!"

The conversation ended and foot steps seemed to pound angrily down the hallway.

"Eric!" The deep voice bellowed.

"Oh God," Duo whispered, moving his hand up to touch his cross. Voice two had just said the other guy's name, confirming his intentions against Quatre. With a momentary pause, he called up his alter-ego that had helped him survive the war, knowing Shinigami was needed now as much as he was during the many battles he'd survived.

Hesitating no longer, the braided boy, his body battered by the fall off the stolen bicycle and head aching from the blow to his head, moved quickly with silent, fluid movements down the hallway in his stocking feet. He paused at the partially opened door marked 621 so he could see the blurred silhouettes of the two men standing further in the room and who were currently in a heated debate.

Unknowing to the men arguing within room 621, Shinigami had risen inside the young teen just feet away from them and was poised to attack from just outside the doorway.

"No Harry, it's not right," the smaller man owning the first voice he'd heard argued with the taller figure before him. "You promised the kid wouldn't get hurt, that we'd get the money and tell the authorities where he was."

"It's not going down the way we planned." the other replied darkly. "Kidnaping is a life sentence, and I'm not gonna do time for a botched job." 

"Please," the other pleaded. "Let's just leave him here. Someone will find him on Monday and we'll be long gone."

"Get out of my way, Eric, or I'll shoot him through you," the menacing voice threatened convincingly.

Reaching into his back pocket, Duo pulled out three of the halved scissors, loosely balancing one in his right hand while the others in his left were poised, ready to use. Without pausing, he leapt through the doorway, causing the door to slam open against the wall. The two men before him turned with a look of shocked surprise on their faces, and that was the last conscious move they ever made. The three, newly-fashioned blades impacted with deadly precision, first into the taller man holding the gun in his hands and standing over Quatre's bound and masked body. The first blade went into the man's throat and the other into his belly. He fell to the floor like a great oak tree. The third blade hit the smaller man square in the middle of his chest. His wide, startled eyes displayed first his shock at the boy's entrance, then the deep agonizing pain he felt as he looked at the handle of the scissors deeply impacted into the center of his chest. With only a squeak of a sound coming from his lips, he slid to the floor, blood pouring out from his wound.

The Deathscythe pilot stumbled forward, cautiously stepping over the sprawled bodies of the dead and dying men and the growing puddle of blood to get to Quatre's side. He pushed the men's bodies aside slightly to have more room to work on his friend.

Gently removing the duct tape that secured the pillow case around the boy's neck, he then removed it from off his head. Quatre's eyes slowly blinked open and seemed dazed and unfocused. 

"Duo?" he asked weakly and then coughed.

"It's me Quat," he reassured him and gently rolled him over to get better access to the wide, silver tape that bound his hands together.

"What happened? Where are we?" the blond boy was obviously disoriented and confused.

"You were kidnaped as we came out of the Pizza place. That jerk Pete recognized you as a Winner and decided to try and make a lot of money at your expense," he answered with anger as he worked at sawing the tape with the box cutter he'd slid out of his sleeve.

As the Arabian boy's hands were freed, he brought them forward to rub the numbness out of them as Duo moved down to his bound feet.

With Duo's body further down from his sight of vision, the blue eyes focused on the two still bodies lying parallel to himself. Visible to him were the opened and glossed over eyes that clearly spoke of Duo's blade throwing accuracy.

"I'm gonna throw up," he warned in a voice sounding like pure misery and tightly squeezed his eyes shut to block out the mask of death the dead men wore and the blood puddled on the floor around him, some smeared where Duo had moved their bodies.

"Just keep your eyes closed," Duo cautioned. After a few moments the sound of the tape around his ankles ripping was followed by Duo saying, "There ya go." The braided boy put the box cutter down in order to have both hands free to rub Quatre's ankles, urging blood back into circulation in the numb feet. 

Then suddenly, within a split second of time, Duo was aware of a flash of something lowering with great speed over the front of his face that instinctively caused him to bring a hand up. His right palm was immediately and painfully caught up and pinned against his throat by what felt like a very strong, thin wire. He was abruptly and forcibly jerked to his feet as he fought to bring his other hand up to try and pull the metal away from his neck, where it was attempting to strangle the life out of him. His dull and aching senses were suddenly alert again, and he could smell and feel the person his back was now pressed up against. He distinctly picked out the smell of cheap cologne, sweat and cigarettes as an angry voice sounded in his right ear.

"You'll pay for this, ya little bastard," the man behind him snarled.

The American struggled valiantly with his hands and feet to dislodge his self-appointed executioner.

"No!" Quatre struggled on wobbly legs to his feet, the effects of the chloroform made him nauseous and dizzy, his feet unsteady underneath him. 

"Sorry kid." Another voice spoke behind the man still holding onto Duo. "But now that you've seen us, we don't have a choice any longer. Both of you gotta die. Especially since you've offed our friends here."

Feeling the metal wire slicing through the skin of his hand caught under it, Duo heard the voice of Pete behind them and knew he had to act now if they were going to survive. Taking a forceful step back into the man trying to kill him, he hit him hard in his ribs with his free elbow, then tucked his head and threw himself forward into a tucked roll, taking the startled man behind with him, flipping him over his back to land on the floor where Quatre had been moments before. The wire garrote lessened enough in his attacker's hands when he fell that the American boy was able to take a deep breath, twist around, and simultaneously reached into his back pocket and grabbed hold of two scissor handles. With lightening speed caused by need and the adrenaline rush of hand-to-hand combat, the boy-soldier plunged both blades into the broad chest below him. The blood curdling scream of the dying man echoed through the empty halls of the large building.

Not forgetting there was another kidnaper in the room, Duo jumped to his feet and stood facing his new opponent. Bloody, clothes torn, long hair in his eyes and trailing wildly around him, the boy from L-2 was breathing heavily to catch his breath as his amethyst-shaded eyes narrowed, sighting his next victim. Shinigami had risen and was present in the room with deadly intent visible in his eyes.

Pete stood looking appropriately horrified as he held a slightly shaking gun up, aimed at Duo's chest. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded with a trace of fear in his voice.

"Big mistake, buddy." Duo's voice came out harsh and raspy, his vocal cords having been bruised by his near strangulation. "Ya mess with the gundam pilots, ya end up dancing with Shinigami."

Pete's eyes widened with horror when he finally understood the implication of the wild-eyed teen's statement. He then looked at Duo down the barrel of his gun with a new look of deadly determination in his eyes.

Duo knew he probably couldn't dodge a bullet, but decided instantly that he would take this guy down with him, no matter what the cost. He crouched a bit lower into a fighting stance, and reached for the last scissor handle in his back pocket as he prepared himself. His concussed brain was causing his head to spin and his vision to blur, he had to blink several times and mentally will his eyes to focus only on the man's eyes and the gun trained on him. Then his world narrowed to just he and Pete, everything around them disappeared around the grey edges of his tunnel vision, and suddenly, everything it became still in his mind as he watched the finger on the man's gun press against the trigger, and he made his move as the report of the gun went off and an indistinct flash color seemed to pass just below his line of vision. In that same fraction of a second, the blade in his hand was sent flying to its target. 

His aim had proven to be true. Pete's agonized scream in reaction to the impact of the blade filled his ears, and he watched as the man who had made them pizza only hours ago, collapsed to the corpse strewn floor with the handle of the scissors imbedded to the black handle in his right eye. Duo stood numb as he watched the man twitch a moment before going still. Even though he knew the room was now silent, there was a stead roar in his ears and the room began to spin. He bent forward to put his head in between his knees to get blood to his brain. 

It was then that the American came back to his senses, mentally beginning to put his alter-ego back in place and come out of his battle mode to realize with a start that he felt no pain from a bullet. In a dazed state, he opened his eyes looked down to the ground where his eyes lit on Quatre, laying silently at his feet in a fetal position and then realization hit.

"No, oh God, no," he whispered in horror. "Not Quatre. Not now," he cried as he fell down on his knees next to his friend and gently turned him over, seeing the growing dark stain of blood spreading across the lower half of the white oxford shirt.

"Duo?" the weak voice called out his name.

"Quatre, you stupid idiot," he said mournfully angry. "Why? Why did you do that?" Then breaking down, the long haired boy began to sob over his friend. With tears flowing down his exhausted and pale face, he carefully lifted his wounded friend's shoulders up to cradle him in his lap.

"Put pressure on it," Quatre whispered in a shaky voice, as his pained, blue eyes struggled to say open, thinking that for some reason it was vitally important.

Duo brought up his right hand and both of them saw the blood flowing from the palm sliced deeply by the metal wire that was used to try and strangle him. "I can't." Duo sobbed harder in his failure to help. "I'm all bloody."

"Yes you can," Quatre said, his voice becoming weaker but adamant. "Just put your hand over it and press. If our blood mixes, we'll be blood brothers," he tried to smile as his eyes drifted closed. "I've always wanted a brother," he said faintly before his body went slack.

"No Quatre," Duo sobbed. "Don't do this to me." He gasped for air and pulled his trembling hand over to place it directly over the bloody patch on the once white shirt and applied pressure. They sat there, for how long, he didn't know, with Duo holding the small blond teenager and rocking back and forth, trying to comfort them both and staunch the flow of blood under his hand at the same time.

As he rocked, a flow of quiet, pleading words came out of him without a pause. "Don't leave us Quatre, please don't go. You're the best of us; you're my friend. Thank you for being there for me Quatre, for all the gifts you've given us. I'll always remember the trip to the snow and the baseball game you took us to, as well as all the safehouses, food and money you provided as well as your listening ear and compassion. God above, help us." He paused only to catch his breath, "Quatre is always there for us, don't take him now." He looked back to the boy in his arms to address him again. "Don't go, Quat, I still need you; we all do. Please don't die, not now. We're almost free and you have your whole life ahead of you. You can't die now, I won't let you. Do you hear me? I'm suppose to be Shinigami, and I say you can't die. Please Quatre. Don't leave us. God, don't take him away. You've done so much for me buddy, now it's my turn to give back to you. You can't leave and make me feel guilty all my life that I never gave back to you." He continued on in his hoarse and choked voice with his thoughts rambling to his friend and to deity until his overwhelming grief took the words from him and replaced them with free-flowing tears of grief.

Dimly registering a noise, Duo lifted his red, tear-filled eyes, laden with extreme exhaustion to look in the direction of the door. Through his blurred vision caused by his tears of grief, he could make out several shapes in the doorway, but couldn't focus to see them clearly or hear what words were being spoken. It didn't matter to him. Nothing mattered. Quatre was dead and it was his fault. He should have done something different. If he'd been faster, more alert, or even waited for back up, maybe Quatre would be alright. His mind quickly retraced his steps from the time they'd come out of the pizza parlor, picturing various things he could have done differently that would have had a better outcome, one in which Quatre was alive and safe.

He felt movement in his arms and looked down to see arms trying to take Quatre's body from him. He instinctively tightened his grip and hunkered down to protect his friend, ignoring the senseless voices and words floating around him.

TBC

  
  



	3. Part 3

Disclaimer and warnings on first page of fic

Shinigami Rises

By: Dyna Dee

Part 3

Warnings: angst

The silent-mode helicopter landed in a vacant parking lot a block away from the building they'd pinpointed as their target. They had located the building by sighting the bicycle leaning against the front wall just as Duo had described it. The three intensely focused gundam pilots followed at a fast clip after their three grim faced agents who insisted on taking the lead.

The streets housing industrial and commercial buildings were nearly deserted as the group ran down the sidewalk, staying close to the buildings and stopping in front of the bike Duo had described. Turning down the alley, they spotted a small, older modeled car parked in the alleyway. It was unlocked and empty. The six entered the unlocked side door of the commercial building and took the stairs immediately to their right two and three at a time. As they climbed upward, the agents pulled their guns out from their hidden holsters to be ready for any action. The teens directly behind them silently wished for their own sidearms.

As they came within sight of the third floor, a shot rang out from above them and echoed throughout the building. Without pausing, the six continued upward at an even faster pace. They came to a stop at the top of the stairs on the sixth floor, with Heero in the lead, and following his silent command, everyone removed their shoes so they could proceed down the corridor in silence. The six trained fighters moved like flowing shadows down the empty hallway, listening for any sounds from the partially open door with the letters Room 621 boldly printed on the frosted glass. 

Roberto, having taken back the lead, held his arm out, impeding the others from continuing. He readied his gun and quickly moved around the edge of the doorframe. The others, pressed against the wall directly behind him, heard his slight intake of breath a second before he moved completely into the room, motioning for them to follow. The six stood just within the doorway, each quickly scanning the room for any possible targets and seeing the immovable four men on the floor bathed in a large puddle of blood.

"Holy shit!" Heero's W.D., Steve, uttered in disbelief. The three gundam pilots pushed pass the momentarily stunned agents to take in the scene of carnage before them.

"Shinigami," Wufei hissed, then the three moved as one towards their downed friends. Duo was sitting on the floor holding Quatre in his arms as he slowly rocked back and forth in a comforting motion. He looked up, and his countenance shocked the newcomers. His eyes seemed glazed over and unfocused, his face was wet with tears and filled with grief. He didn't speak nor acknowledge their presence in any way as they moved towards him, but kept up the steady rocking motion. Trowa and Wufei's steps faltered as they viewed the blood all over the front of Quatre's shirt and Duo's hand as he held it over the blond boy's stomach.

"Quatre." Trowa whispered his best friend's name with fear and stumbled as he pushed himself forward to step over the dead bodies and fall down on his knees near the blond's head cradled in the crook of Duo's arm.

"Nataku, no." Wufei took in a shuddering breath as he fought back the wave of fear and dread that coursed through him.

Seeing that Duo was not responsive to their presence, Heero stepped around the bodies to come up behind his friend. Kneeling down he wrapped his arms around the long haired boy and embraced him from behind, offering what comfort he could. He reached his hand over and placed it on Quatre's neck and after a brief moment, his eyes lifted up to meet those of the other two. "He's still alive," he announced. And with those words, the agents came out of their frozen state and began to immediately use their cell phones to call for back up, police assistance, and medical help.

Trowa carefully lifted Quatre's pale, slack hand into his own and brought his fingers to rest on his wrist, needing the reassurance that Heero words were true. Feeling a weak but steady pulse under his fingertips, the Heavyarm's pilot brought his forehead down to rest it against the back of the unconscious boy's hand, praying to the God that both Quatre and Duo believed in that there was still a chance for the boy who was always so gentle and giving.

"We should get him downstairs and meet the ambulance," Wufei suggested as he knelt next to Trowa, ignoring the bloody mess in front of and surrounding them. He removed his dark blue shirt and tried to move Duo's hand to place the wadded-up fabric over the wound. Duo, reacting on instinct alone, hunkered over the unconscious Arabian in a pose of protectiveness.

"Duo, let go of Quatre so we can take care of him," Wufei said softly to the unresponsive and distressed boy.

The braided teen didn't answer, but kept rocking back and forth, tears falling indiscriminately down his pale cheeks.

"Talk to him, Heero," The Chinese pilot urged, even as two of the W.D. agents moved forward to help.

"Duo," Heero began, still holding his friend and rocking back and forth with him. "Quatre's alive but he needs immediate medical help. Let him go, please."

Seeing no response at his words and realizing Duo was in shock, Wing's pilot placed his hands on Duo's wrists and slowly pried them away from Quatre's limp body. The long haired teen's only reaction to Heero's pull on his wrists was a pitiful whimper and resistance against removing his hand from his friend. When at last Quatre was finally free of Duo's grip, Trowa was right there, supporting the Sandrock's pilot's body and cautiously eased the blond into his own arms, even as Duo struggled in vain to free himself from Heero's firm grip, desperate to recapture his friend.

Seeing from the corner of his eye that Heero embraced Duo to keep him still and offer comfort, Wufei immediately put his wadded up shirt on the front of Quatre's stomach and put pressure on the bleeding wound. Roberto quickly moved behind them to help the Heavyarms pilot to his feet, with Quatre secured in his arms and Wufei at his side. The two pilots allowed their protective agents to lead them to the nearby elevator.

Agent Steve stood in the open doorway and watched as the boy who had saved the earth months earlier by destroying the falling section of the Libra, now spoke in soft, comforting tones to the traumatized boy clinging tightly to him. When Quatre had been removed from his hold, the Deathscythe pilot had broken down, and had begun to cry openly. Worrying for the boy who had battled so hard to over come depression and the side effects of the strong medications prescribed to ostensibly help him, the agent moved forward to offer whatever help the two boys would receive from him.

The events of the last few hours played over and over in Duo's mind. He was only vaguely aware of the sounds and voices around him as he replayed each step he'd taken that day. A loud siren seemed like the buzz of a mosquito vaguely bothered him, but he couldn't be distracted by it. If he ignored it, he wouldn't be reminded of what he was trying so hard for the moment to forget. There was a great pain in his heart he didn't want to acknowledge, not yet. He found some measure of comfort in his numb state by rocking back and forth with the welcomed warmth of someone holding him. That small movement and the comfort the other offered lent him a sense of security that he so desperately needed at the moment. He felt as if the bottom of his world was falling away again and his heart wanted to let go and fall into the welcoming darkness, to let it consume him so he wouldn't have to hurt anymore. But somewhere in his mind the tenacity that had always been such a dominant part of his personality grappled frantically to cling to some small part of reality, not willing to let go completely. He didn't want to face reality at the moment and, in his mind, he had found a place where the pain and horror of the day's events were dimmed. He wanted, no, needed to stay there, just for a little while. At least until he could figure out what he did wrong and why Quatre had taken a bullet for him.

The hospital's waiting room was cold, and Heero wondered why places of healing always seem so lacking in warmth. The burning in his stomach was nearly unbearable at the moment, but he could set it aside until they received word on Quatre's condition. 

His focus was now on his roommate and best friend. Duo sat next to him with a blue hospital-issued blanket draped over his shoulders. His hands and neck wounds were bandaged as well as the road burn on his forearm, thigh and calf. His usual animated face was pale and blank. The normally talkative boy hadn't spoken a word since he was carried by Agent Steve out of the room littered with the bodies of the men he'd killed rescuing Quatre. He didn't speak or acknowledge the doctors in the emergency room as they stitched his open wounds and bandaged them, which concerned the Wing pilot greatly. After having witnessed the tantrum Duo threw at the end of the war when Sally wanted to give him a check up, and knowing the reason why, Heero felt the wrongness of the situation as that same boy sat, apparently unfeeling and uncaring, while doctors and nurses worked over him. 

The Emergency Room doctor wanted to admit Duo to the hospital for observation for his concussion and to be treated for shock. The other three pilots adamantly refused, declaring they were perfect capable of caring for him. In truth, they didn't want to be separated when they needed each other to face whatever might happen with Quatre. Though the doctor was reluctant, he released his patient into their care as long as they stayed within the hospital and with a promise that they would get him to take in fluids and some food. Heero was handed a small, green pair of scrubs and was told to dress his friend as his clothes were covered in blood and large holes where he'd sustained wounds that looked like he'd painfully fallen on asphalt.

The hours stretched out agonizingly slow while Quatre remained in surgery. And as time passed, the waiting room on the fourth floor, where the surgical room was located, slowly began to fill. At first, it had held only the four pilots and their three watch dogs. Not ten minutes after they settled into the room then Lady Une arrived, with several more agents flanking her. Noin and Relena came shortly after as did the school's principal, several police men and a nosey reporter.

Wufei self-appointed himself as a liaison between the pilots and the new arrivals, allowing Heero to keep an eye on the other silent two. Trowa sat in a bent position on the edge of his chair and adjacent to Duo. His forehead rested against the palms of his upraised hands, his elbows were planted on his knees. His worry over his closest friend was more than understandable and shared. Duo sat silent while staring vacantly at a burn mark on the carpet, and slowly rocked back and forth, clutching his borrowed blanket tightly to his chest.

At Wufei's determined insistence, and with Lady Une's clout, the police and reporter were forestalled from approaching Duo with their questions regarding the four dead men and details of the kidnaping. One look at the boy, bandaged and obviously still in shock, helped convince them that he wasn't ready to speak of what had happened.

Relena hovered at a distance, wanting to help, but sensing the four teens who had survived a war and many hardships together needed to work through this as a team. She timidly approached the four, two of which looked up at her, acknowledging her presence. "Can I bring you something to eat or drink?" She asked softly, not knowing what else she could do to help.

Heero raised his head, his eyes locking with hers. He noticed the girl's timid smile. She was nervous and unsure and he tried to smile back to reassure her, but his facial muscles seemed to be controlled by his aching heart and burning stomach.

"Could you bring us some juice and snacks?" he asked. "Duo likes potato chips and any kind of cookie. But nothing with raisins," he quickly added, still looking sad and thoughtful. "He doesn't like raisins." 

Relena smiled sadly at the pain the four were experiencing, and put her hand on Heero's shoulder. "Is there anything in particular you would like Heero?" she asked.

"Water," he replied. "I need some water and maybe a sandwich with no mustard or spices."

With a nod she turned to leave the room, one of Lady Une's agents separated himself from the group and followed her.

Heero looked at his watch. It was going well past three hours since the surgery began. Suddenly, Trowa stood up and began to pace. Duo tightly curled his legs up against his chest and turned to face to the wall in reaction to it. Heero clutched his stomach. Things were not looking good.

Relena returned fifteen minutes later laden with a tray filled with a variety of food and drinks from the hospital's cafeteria. She and the agent who had gone with her set the two very full trays loaded with a sandwiches, juices, snacks and fruit down on the end table next to Heero's position on the couch.

The Wing pilot studied the juices, then selected the bottle filled with a cranberry apple juice and popped the top off. Turning, he held it out in front of his braided friend. "Drink this, Duo," he ordered softly.

The braided teen's response was to curl up further and tighten his hold on his blanket. After waiting for several moments for Duo to change his mind, Heero sighed and replaced the drink on the tray and frowned. The nurse from the ER who came to check on Duo every hour would not be pleased that the traumatized teen had not had anything to drink.

He looked up again as Wufei approached and stood next to Relena. He paused to observe Duo's still form and then glanced at the tray of food. His eyes then locked with Heero's and without speaking, they communicated their common worry over their friend.

The Chinese boy nodded and picked up the open bottle of juice, selected a peanut butter filled candy bar and then moved to kneel next to the American teen. "Duo, you need to drink something," he told the unresponsive teen. "It's standard procedure that we always re-hydrate after a mission." 

"Mission?" Duo's dazed voice asked.

"Yes, your mission to retract Quatre," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Quatre," Duo's voice hitched. He slowly released his tight grip on his blanket and held his right hand out to his view. A faint stain of blood was visible on the white bandage wrapped around his damaged palm. He brought his wounded hand up to cover his face and he began to rock back and forth once again.

Wufei moved forward and embraced him, mindful of the open juice bottle in his hand. "Have you so little faith in Quatre?" he gently chided the upset boy. "He's strong," he said with conviction, feeling Duo's body trembling with emotion.

"Why did he do it, Wufei?" Duo whispered, not pulling away or looking up.

"Do what, Duo?" Wufei asked calmly, seeing Heero and Trowa edge closer to listen. Duo hadn't spoken since they'd left that death-filled room in the warehouse.

"He took the bullet for me." He paused to sniff back the tears. "Why would he do that?"

Without any hesitation, Wufei answered him. "Because he's your friend. Here," He pulled back and held the open bottle of juice out. "Drink this and then tell us what happened."

Lifting his face from his hands, Duo let his shaking hands take possession of the offered bottle of juice and brought it to his lips. He took a few swallows then lowered it.

"More," Heero ordered, and Wufei put his hand under the bottom of the bottle, still gripped in Duo's hands, and gently guided it back up to his lips.

The braided boy meekly obeyed and drank half of the juice before lowering it and handing it back to Wufei, who then passed it to Heero to dispose of. Wufei then unwrapped the chocolate covered, peanut butter candy bar and broke it in half and offered one part to his friend.

Without a smile, Duo accepted it and popped it into his mouth, slowly chewing before swallowing and immediately accepted the second piece. The bottle of juice re-appeared to wash it down.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Trowa asked as he sat once again on the couch next to Duo's feet, on the opposite end of the couch from Heero. His piercing green eyes sought the pained blue-violet ones, needing to understand what had gone wrong.

Duo glanced up and recognized the need in his friend's eyes. He'd been going over and over every decision he'd made since Quatre had been grabbed, trying to figure out what he'd done wrong, or what he could have done differently to save him. He began quietly, and at times spoke haltingly as he related their afternoon, starting by entering the Pizza restaurant and Pete's phone call. He quickly told of Quatre's abduction and the chloroform that incapacitated him, and of his being hit on the head from behind. He then related his long ride through the city on the bumper of the van, and then on the stolen bike. He jumped over most of his search of the six floors of the building to the point of time when he'd found Quatre in the ill-fated room, and listened to the kidnappers' conversations. Then, after the phone call that stated that the Winner's would not bargain with kidnapers, he told of the one man's plan to kill Quatre in retaliation. 

In a cold, small voice and in precise, detached detail, the American reported how he'd killed the first two kidnapers upon entering the room. And then, while he bent down to free the bound and drugged Arabian on the floor, he'd been attacked from behind. He told them of the wire garrote and how he'd disabled and killed that assailant, also stating that Quatre had gotten to his feet and was completely disoriented. He then related to them his coming face to face with Pete, the pizza guy, holding a gun in his hand and aimed at his chest. He choked on his words as he described how he didn't realize at first that Quatre had taken the bullet for him as he was focused on the man, the gun, and throwing the knife with extreme prejudice, taking down the immediate danger around the them.

"I looked down, and there was Quatre, bleeding from a stomach wound," he whispered, his voice reflecting his pained disbelief. "I held him in my arms and tried to stop it, but my hand was bleeding." He continued with a sniff. "Quatre said that we're now blood brothers."

Obviously fighting a losing battle to keep his composure, the traumatized boy's wide, pain filled eyes looked up to meet Trowa's sad face. "Quatre has a family, a future," he whispered as a look of bewilderment crossed his fair features. "Why would he sacrifice himself for me? I'm dispensable. Only you guys would miss me if I was killed. Why did he do it?" Duo's voice hitched as he spoke, and a slow falling tear fell unheeded from his left eye and trailed slowly down his cheek.

It pained the other three to hear Duo speak of his own lack of self worth. Trowa thought of the many times throughout the war that Duo had taken countless chances with the belief that no one would be hurt by his death. The others had decided that was the reason for his enjoyment of life, the wonders of Earth and new sensations that were to be explored and enjoyed to the fullest by the boy from L-2 because the kid that had lost everything and everyone one he'd ever cared about never believed he'd live to see the end of the war. "Life is short, and I'm gonna burn brightly till the end," he'd said to them once, and he lived by that motto every day.

"I'm sorry, Trowa." The pained violet eyes looked at the Heavyarms pilot apologetically. "I really did try to save him from being hurt."

Trowa nodded, then turned to face the anguished boy. "You did all you could have done, Duo," he began and spoke softly. "It's not your fault that he got hurt," he said in a consoling tone. "It was Quatre's choice, and his actions prove he values you as his friend. Any one of us would have done the same thing if we were in his place."

"If he dies, I'll never forgive myself," Duo whispered, clearly not consoled by Trowa's words.

The Heavyarms pilot moved off the couch and onto his knees next to the anguished boy. He put out his arms in an invitation. Duo hesitated only a moment before he ease himself forward to settle against the taller brunet teen's shoulder and hugged him fiercely.

Soon other arms were wrapped protectively around the two. Heero, Wufei and Relena joined the supportive embrace. Not a moment later, Sally, Lady Une, Noin, and the pilots' watch dogs joined in, arms encircling the four boys who had lost so much in their short lives and were now fearful of losing someone so dear to them once again. 

The group hug held for several moments when a small voice in the middle spoke up. "Uh....thanks guys," definitely Duo's voice, "but I'm feeling kinda claustrophobic here." 

A slight chuckle reverberated through the group hunched down on the floor. One by one, the arms were removed and the others stood back. Heero and Wufei also stood, yet remained close as Trowa helped Duo back onto the couch. He then took his own place on the couch again, but this time he pulled Duo's slim body next to his, slinging his arm over the American's shoulders and holding him in a protective half hug. 

The braided head tilted to rest upon the taller boy's offered shoulder. "I'm so tired," he muttered so faintly only Trowa could hear.

"Then rest. We'll wake you when there's news," The other boy told him quietly.

"K." The small reply accompanied with a large yawn.

"And Duo?"

"Hum?"

"When we get the good news, we're going out to eat, and I want you to eat a lot of food." Trowa told him as he squeezed the slight shoulder and then added. "You're too thin."

"Good news," Duo murmured just before his head and body slumped as he gave into his exhaustion.

*******

"Duo!" Trowa's voice and a shake of his shoulder aroused the slumbering teen. His eyes flew open as he moved to sit up, alarmed as the surroundings and circumstances came back to him. His eyes moved quickly to take in the room's occupants, and blinking his eyes in an effort to focus them, he began to see everyone in the room was focused on a bespeckled man with greying hair dressed in surgical scrubs. The man's face seemed a mask, lacking a show of any emotion. The surgeon's eyes scanned the room and lit on Lady Une. He immediately moved towards her as the person on top of the situation. He began to speak, but was stopped by the raise of her hand. She turned and motioned for the four pilots to join her. 

Duo stood, aided by Trowa, and moved in what felt like slow motion as the pain, now registering from his wounds, made even the slight action of walking painful. He numbly moved forward, towards the doctor with the other three teens surrounding him in the mode of protection to learn of the fate of their comrade.

Still feeling groggy and strangely numb, Duo used all his will to focus on what the doctor was saying, but the detailed explanation of the damage to Quatre, the procedures in repairing the damage in the operating room were beyond his current mental capacity to fully understand. Everything happening to him and around him suddenly seemed so surreal. But Heero's firm grip on his left upper arm let him know he was awake and that the moment was indeed very real.

He chanced a look at the others and saw their faces were blank, their lips pressed firmly together as they listened to the doctor's report.

Duo's mind tried to absorb the man's words, picking out a few to try to comprehend his friend's condition. Angle of the bullet, punctured organs, broken rib, removal of bullet, internal bleeding, and lucky boy were the words that registered.

"Is he going to be alright? Will he live?" His questions burst out of him from his need to know, and though he had not spoken loudly, he still interrupted the doctor.

The surgeon turned his dispassionate eyes to the long-haired boy who looked to be in shock, and his eyes and manner softened.

"There's a good chance he will, son," he replied. "We'll monitor his vitals closely for a week to see if the repaired organs begin to function on their own again. If they do, he'll have a full recovery. If not, well..." He gave the boy a faint smile but a look of firm resolve. "We'll take care of that as well."

The braided boy reached out his hand from under his blanket and took a step forward. Grabbing hold of the surgeon's right hand, he shook it vigorously. "Thank you, mister," he said with all sincerity.

After his initial shock at the boy's bold approach, the older man smiled. "You're welcome," he replied simply, then looked with a doctor's eye of assessment at the pale face and visual evidence of strain on the boy's features. Turning his head, he observed the other three teenage boys, their faces showing a trace of relief on their otherwise emotionless faces. His eyes lit for a moment on the dark haired Japanese boy noticing a slight grimace of pain on his face and his arm clutching his stomach. "I'd suggest all of you boys get some food and rest before you collapse," he advised them.

Sally stepped forward, putting her hands on Heero and Wufei's shoulders as she stood behind them. "I'll see to it," she told all present.

"This one's in pain," the surgeon motioned to Heero and all eyes looked at him with various expressions of shock, disbelief, and suspicion. 

Sally turned Heero around to face her, her eyes narrowing as she gave him a quick visual assessment. "Is this true?" she asked, almost skeptical.

"Ulcer...I think." Heero answered softly, embarrassed at the attention he was getting.

Sally frowned. "Alright. I'm taking you guys back to the dorms. Quatre will be in intensive care for a while and there are no visitors allowed. We'll come back tomorrow."

Surprisingly, the four gundam pilots followed the good doctor as she led the docile bunch out of the hospital and to a government issued car. Une, Relena and Noin bid them goodnight at the hospital's entrance.

The late evening car ride through the darkened city to the school was a silent one, no one seemed to be in the mood for inane chatter or false levity. Sally asked the driver to please wait as she led the four to their dorm and then to their rooms. With a promise of returning shortly for medication for both boys, she turned and quickly left to run her errand.

Heero and Duo kept the light off in their room as they walked in silence straight to their beds and collapsed with care down onto them, still fully dressed, with their breathing the only sound in the room.

"It's good news, right? Quatre's gonna be fine?" Duo asked through the darkness, his voice sounding weary and unsure.

"Yes," Heero replied in a sleepy voice, then followed up with a yawn. "He's going to be fine and back with us soon."

A long pause followed, so much so that Heero thought his friend had fallen asleep. But he was wrong.

"My head really hurts." Duo moaned his quiet complaint. 

"You have a concussion, it's bound to be painful."

"And my leg feels like it's been through a grater."

"It'll feel better tomorrow."

"I'm cold."

"Then cover up."

"My hand is throbbing. I think it's swelling and pulling at the stitches."

"Don't clench it."

"Heero?"

"Hn?"

"You okay?"

"My stomach hurts."

"Anything else?"

"My head. I have a headache."

"Probably not as bad as mine." 

"Maybe not. I'm also hungry."

"Me too. Heero?

"Duo." Heero's voice came out in a low growl of impatience.

"Promise me that when we're ninety years old and living in some rest home that we can continue this stimulating conversation."

An amused short came from the Japanese teen and a smile, which he believed unattainable after the events that occurred on such a horrible day, surprisingly grew on his face.

"So..." Duo's voice called out once again across the darkness that separated their two beds. "Where's all the food Trowa promised?"

"Che" Heero choked out as a chuckle of amusement was shared in the dark by both boys. Duo's soft laughter was music to the Wing pilot's ears. He knew from that moment on that things were going to get better, and all would be right again, just as soon as Quatre returned.

End


End file.
